The most important thing I took from my time doing Jiu-Jitsu wasn’t a technique or a belt.

It was this:
Learning to listen to my body.

I didn’t want to roll with people.
I knew it wasn’t right for me—my body told me every time.
But I overrode it. Pushed through. Tried to belong.

Until one day, I didn’t.

I stopped forcing. I stopped justifying. I left.
And in that moment, I honoured myself more than I ever had on the mat.

There was a guy there—unstable, unconscious, stuck in wounded child energy.
He used to call me a “pussy,” but I realised later…
That’s just how he talked to himself.
He projected that shame outward because it was eating him alive inside.

That’s why he never left the mat.
It was the only place where he could feel powerful.
And when someone like me—quiet, new, grounded—showed up and didn’t flinch, he couldn’t handle it.

He said I was weak.
But deep down, I think he knew:

I was one of the strongest people he’d ever rolled with—not just physically, but internally.

That bothered him. Because I didn’t need the mat to feel like someone.

I think that’s why he hurt me the way he did.
He needed to overpower me to feel real.
But all it showed me was how fragile that performance of strength really was.

Taking testosterone. Acting out. Mocking others.
It was all armour for an invisible little boy who never felt seen.

And yeah—being around that kind of energy is dangerous.
Because when you remind someone of the parts they’ve buried, they don’t always thank you.
They retaliate.

But here’s what matters:
I didn’t become like him.
I didn’t fight for dominance or lose myself trying to prove something.

I listened. I left. I chose safety.

And that, more than any submission or stripe, is how I know I’ve grown.

My body has always known the truth.

It knew when I wasn’t safe.
It knew when I was being disrespected.
It knew when I was overriding my own instincts to belong.

And now?
I honour that wisdom. I trust it.
And I don’t need to be in spaces that punish me for listening to it.

Because real strength is knowing when to walk away.

And I walked away from the mat—not because I was weak,
but because I finally understood how strong I really am.